Breathless
by CrimsonEos
Summary: Being accepted into North Academy was a pleasant surprise which fore casted some type of career in Duel Monsters, ideally the Pro Leagues. But one couldn't have expected what was waiting on that harsh island.
1. Nascent

So I thought I was done with OC fics . . . Really, I did. But then I got inspired by a few people and by reading the rules of writing according to Mark Twain. Hah, you may say, for the presence of an OC is an added personage that is not needed. And to this legit point I have no response. But in this rewritting of an old fic of mine ("Circle"), a lot has been altered. And soon there will be increased involvement from canon characters, namely Ikaku, Johan, Yuri, and a bit of Jun. Also Ichinose. But I have babbled enough; the story should tell itself and should be enjoyed for the sake of being a story.

This time around I will only write five chapters. :D

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own _Yu-Gi-Oh! DM GX.

* * *

_Chapter One - Nascent_

There never will be a novel published about me—nor poetry, biographies, or news articles.

Now, as for what is told here, that is another tale completely.

It was on a foggy day, typical of spring in Liverpool, when the acceptance letter from North Academy came. I had gone to a preparatory middle school, of course, but matriculating in North Academy was optional. Seeing as how small the student body was, many figured that they wouldn't get in; I was one of them, so the letter came as a shock, a guiding whistle in the dark stagnation of my future.

My parents were a letdown as they had no problem with me going, and were even happy that my dreams of fame might be achieved (my voice and acting and appearance were all clearly not going to take me to any stage, much less the silver screen or iPods). How great would it have been for my potential career if I had surmounted the doubts and restrictions of my parents and risen to be a moderately successful duellist? But, no, things like that do not happen to hoi polloi.

The next few months—it was the end of the spring term when the letter arrived—passed by quick enough. My summer vacation, spent preparing for harsh duels, harsher weather, and even harsher languages, is a truly blurry memory. The only thing I can vividly remember was when dad got a promotion and mom could finally retire from her teaching career. Interminable jokes of "well, I shall just have to come and teach you at North Academy" failed to amuse me, however.

Finally, my uniform arrived in the express mail. Up until this point I had not really realized that North Academy would be a palpable reality for me. But when I fingered the thick material of the uniform coat and skirt (my mom began to doubt the school when she saw how short the skirt was, but I showed her the stockings and all doubts were relieved), I knew that this would really be happening for me. Yet, when I tried on North Academy's raiment, I could not help but feel lingering doubts; the measurements for my neck and chest had been wrong, so the blue collar sat loosely upon my shoulders. My dad commented that with as white as the uniform was, I would have to be careful not to get lost in the scenery. This amused me greatly, for my pale skin would probably be a more likely offender. But with my massive thighs, I wouln't get lost in any snow banks. When he heard this, dad just laughed and told me to wait until I saw the North, that permafrost and tundra were way more vicious than I knew. So I would wait.

There were many reasons why I broke down and sobbed for hours on my final evening at home. Paramount was my fear of being separated from my parents until the winter holidays; I had never before been gone away longer than three days form them, and that had been for a two-day trip to London to see how the Pro Leagues were run. On said trip the thought of "yes, so close to going home" was refrain in my mind the moment I set foot on London tarmac. Second was my ability to get seasick like no other. Many times day trips to the mainland have been ruined by my sensitive stomach, and the only way to get to North Academy was by submarine. Really.

That morning I woke up well before dawn and had nothing to do for two hours. So I pulled out a journal and began to write down whatever came to me. I am by no means a poet or writer, but I like to get my thoughts down on paper. That way I can always look back, and they will be there for sure. It's a kind of comfort, maybe even an indulgence.

Finally the rest of the house woke and it was time for me to get ready. Showering always took me less than ten minutes. Putting up my hair only took me a few minutes, the longest process drying it before securing it with an heirloom pin in the half-up style. Dressing was easy aside from figuring out how to secure my coat and then, realizing that it was too hot, trying to get myself out of it. Looking in the mirror, I fingered the spattering of acne on my chin and prayed that it would not leave acne scars. Forgoing makeup as a I always did, I deemed myself ready to set out. But standing there, on the cool tiles of our modern bathroom with my feet swathed in black nylon, I could not help but feel vulnerable. I really was leaving, wasn't I? But I had used up all my tears the night before, so I moved on to take one last look around my room.

It was a Sunday, so both of my parents were able to accompany me as far as the airport. However, when the airport was reached a renewed front of water slide from my eyes and I thought all the water in my body would sluice onto my face and clothing. But soon even those tears dried and all I was left with was a smarting head and red eyes. Before I boarded my mother handed me my carry-on and my jacket, bidding me a watery farewell.

"Be good my daughter, and do not be outside more than you have to."

"Of course. I will stay warm," I assured her with a small smile. Dad winked at me. Then he did something that surprised me, because being a Manly Man, he was not partial to PDA; enfolding me in his arms, he told me to make him proud and take care of myself.

"And no boyfriends, you hear?"

"Of course," I said. And I laughed inwardly. What boy in their right mind would want me, anyway? Even if they were stoned I know they would have enough sense to not touch me.

Then I boarded the plane—economy got on last—and tried to fall asleep in the recycled air. I was able to doze off, but never truly fall asleep, the REM cycle flitting away from me.

When we landed in Oslo I noticed that it was cold for summer, but by no means did this chill warrant my uniform jacket. Interrupting my thoughts was a smartly dressed woman holding up a whiteboard marked with North Academy's entwined **NA.** I shuffled over to her and she offered a noncommital smile. Several others joined us—seven males and one other female—and then she was satisfied so we set off to the baggage carousals. Two boys spoke staccato-French, commenting on how bad the in-flight meal had been. Strange, I didn't remember any French people or chicken being served.

Shunning them, I was inclined to walk near the other female. She was decidedly French, with a dignified but confused air about her. Her gait was a bit wobbly, prompting me to immediately take to her.

"Hello," she said in accented English as we walked, "I'm Jeanne. I'm going to be the next great Pro League duellist very soon."

"You're quiet confident, aren't you?"

"It is not confidence. It is security."

And she was so seriously I had to laugh. "Very well, Jeanne. I hope that you become the next great Duel Monster star."

Good for her, I thought. Because I sure wished I could be that secure in my own abilities.

After all baggage was collected without any incidents, we piled into an unmarked van and began driving towards the dazzling blue sea. About half an hour later we were dropped off at a quaint pier bleached white in gull droppings. Among us greetings were shared and rivalries already starting, while the upperclassmen rolled their eyes at us freshmen and made indignant comments about stupid children. Then I was joined by Jeanne, whose brown hair was absolutely luscious in the sunlight, for the harsh florescent lights in the airport had really done nothing for her.

"You're pigeon-toed?" she asked flatly, and had her eye not been on me I would have thought she was talking to someone, anyone else.

As for my pigeon-toes, well . . . "No, I'm not. I just like to stand this way." And it was true. Standing with my knees and toes facing inward made me feel cute and pert and likeable.

"You're a very strange girl. But I like you. We must stick together in this sea of men." Her hand swept across the rest of the students and my eyes followed. Jeanne was right about it being a sea. Aside from us I could spot only two other females. And even they looked rough. Like the kind of women who marched on Versailles to demand bread for their starving families and then rounded up the royal family and escorted them to Paris personally.

"Yes, I'm not ordinary. I prefer to think of myself as eccentric."

"Ah."

It was clear that she didn't understand what I meant, but I let it pass. Reaching out a hand, I summoned up my most pleasant smile and said "Jeanne. The two of us shall be partners in a sea of testosterone."

"Yes." Jeanne took my extended hand and shook it. "Just so you know, you're courses will probably be affected by my mine. Very soon it shall synchronize to my schedule," she said gravely.

I eyed her. Then warily considered her.

What was wrong with her? If I was eccentric, then she was a circus compacted tidily into a petite female frame.

"I shall keep that in mind. So, what kind of deck do you play?"

"Aqua. Now if you will excuse me, I have to go and introduce myself to those other girls." Just like that she was gone. I knew she would be back, but I really didn't want her to. People like that, who think that they can boss me around . . . The first command I get is the same moment she gets ditched.

A voice rung out over us and ordered us to cease our chattering. Calm descended.

The countenance of the man that materialized from the dock and walked to the center of our group screamed militarism. I thought him German with his imposing cheekbones and regal air. Perhaps he was an offspring of a kaiser. Pins on his hat and coat sparkled purposefully to tell us to really pay attention to this towering giant or face the consequences. Images of torture flooded my mind and made me shudder. Luckily, he did not see my weakness and instead focussed on a black-haired male who looked to be about my age. His obsidian hair was spiked into a sharp point protruding from his head like a horn. And his cheeks appeared to be dirty.

"You there, boy. Don't stare at me like that. What's your name?"

"Tachibana Ikaku," the younger male replied back, a subtle immaturity lacing his words. For some reason I felt the urge to walk over and slap his face. But that would have been improper and uncouth.

I noticed that Ikaku's chin was very pointy, sort of like a wooden top.

"Well, Ikaku, watch your tone or I might have to readjust it for you," and the man wrung his hands together to show what he meant. Ikaku seemed to be unaffected, however, but did not say anything more.

"Right. Now children, it is time to get your sorry arses"—several people flinched at his language—"onboard my submarine. But not that fast. I don't care what that Ichinose says, I'm only allowing one bag per person. So pick what you want and leave the rest here."

"What will happen to our stuff?" inquired a very brave soul.

"Whatever will. Perhaps some fisherman will take it home to their families. Or maybe someone homeless will benefit from your forfeit."

Homeless people in Norway? But I said nothing.

So with a great dealing of grumbling and muttering, we picked out our most vital possessions and ditched the rest. For me it was easy. Aside from four uniforms I had nothing else save an enameled pen from my grandmother, basic toiletries, and an extra set of boots.

Jeanne was having a fit, however, as she forced to decide between her vast collection of makeup and a few pairs of boots that didn't look too much like the ones issued by North Academy. Her dilemmas left me with a vague satisfaction, and I smiled when she tossed up her manicured hands and shrieked about unfair and impossible decisions.

It only took looking at the submarine to get my stomach to churn. Maybe my seasickness was more mental that physical? That aside, I climbed down into the haul of the black war machine and into a different world. In this dimly lit place everything was tinted red and one felt as if they would suffocate because of the confined quarters. I followed the student in front of me, for he seemed like he knew where he was going, and came upon a relatively large space where others had already divided themselves into groups of five and settled on slim benches resembling pews. I looked for a place to sit and found that three females were looking nervously at me.

Did I want to sit with them? By no means, though neither did I want to sit by any males. Indecision was tearing me apart.

But something happened then that saved me from having to make such an uncomfortable decision. Now, I don't believe that simple encounters with amazing persons can alter the course of your life. But people can, just as easily as an earthquake can alter the course of a river. He stood not much taller than me and had a soft look about him that contrasted violently from the harden air of the rest of the males in our group. Smiling, too. And not a malicious grin, but a honest-to-goodness smile.

He then looked at me and a wave of anxiety washed over me. Looks can be deceiving . . . But I . . . I knew that he would not really harm me. Sitting down himself, he gestured for me to join him on the bench next to him, on the end. Though not pleased that this could be an order (really, I knew it couldn't be because he was apparently not the kind to order people around), I walked over, sat down, and clutched my bag to my chest. Nothing was said. Then my stomach growled and I cursed its rebellious timing.

"It's a pleasure to meet you! Another freshman, correct? My name is Johan Andersen," he chirped in impeccable English. I couldn't detect even the slightest accent, but I did notice his voice was very soft. Made me think of running through a field of white down.

"Likewise . . . Though, English of mine is not so good," I lied while feigning a German accent.

He looked at me, clearly bemused. "Eh? But you looked to be British, so, uh . . . Is this a game?"

I shrugged. Then, dropping the lie, "no. I was just testing you, I suppose."

"Ah, okay." And his smile returned in all its resplendent glory.

It was at this point that I realized we had begun moving, prompting my seasickness to crash down on me. Saliva rose in my mouth and my stomach seemingly flipped, practising for the upcoming Olympics in my belly.

"Are you seasick? Would you like my to pinch your wrists?" He offered, throwing me off guard. Others weren't suppose to care about my state, let alone offer to help. It really did freak me out. I scouted away and, being the calculated genius that I was, misjudged the distance left and fell of the bench. My head collided with the metal floor and made a rather disgusting sound, reassuring me that my skull was thicker than most others because it didn't hurt as bad as it sounded. Pissed at the situation, I hoisted myself up and stood proudly. By now the laughing had stopped and they had moved on to more interesting things than my misery.

It wasn't his fault. Don't explode now. It wasn't his fault, but mine.

Luckily I was able to keep myself collected.

I sat down and buried my head into my bag. Sullen, I didn't respond to his inquiries about my state. So eventually he quit and struck up a conversation with the male on his other side, conversing lightly on Duel Monsters and the weather. I learned that he was from Denmark. "Andersen" could be Danish, I knew. But "Johan"? . . . I remembered that it could be German or Scandinavian. Time passed and I figured that I had enough reason to dislike him, but then he turned back to me and asked about me. I pretended to be asleep, hoping to God that I did it convincingly. Either he was convinced or got the message—I really couldn't tell—and turned back to his other side.

By and by, my petulant display allowed me a dreamless sleep.

Johan woke me up some hours later, telling me that we had arrived. He was still smiling.

I waited for the rest of the crowd to pass before I got up. I really don't like be pushed by strangers, let alone being touched by them. And in my sore (I realized then that I could have gotten a concussion) and cantankerous state I couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't ponce someone for displacing a single hair of mine.

When I exited and saw Johan in the daylight, I felt ashamed for how I had acted. Really, such a nice looking guy. His eyes sparkled with charisma and his posture radiated congeniality. Of all the people . . .

The ground tore my thoughts from that boy and to the fact that ground was indeed "permafrost". It was _ice. _Everywhere—crags and ravines of ice; even fingers of ice jutting up from the ground and reaching for the gray firmament.

"Remember to walk on the snow, children!" The captain shouted at us before descending back into his beloved submarine. We freshmen waited in a hush silence at the base of the imposing walls guarding the school. Were we to go ahead to the school by ourselves?

I took a step, missed a patch of snow, and nearly fell again. I cursed under my breath and pulled myself up from my amateur split. My thighs burned.

"You're very graceful," Jeanne commented offhandedly as she approached me. Dislike boiled in me, so I took a step away from her.

"Careful not to trip again. You've already managed to make a fool out of yourself twice today," she said, her guile shining through. Okay, she is good at making comments, I thought irascibly. Inept at this sort of exchange, I shrugged.

"I'll keep that in mind," I said, trying to be nonchalant.

"I'm sure you will." With that she pulled out her cell phone and thumbed it open, only to find that there was no service. Well, duh. Foreign cell phones are known to not function well on isolated islands.

"Your attention, please," came a strong voice over the crowd. Its origin was an older looking man with black hair and a kind smile in his eyes. Really, his eyes did smile. He stood on a rock and waited for us to quiet. "Welcome to North Academy, students! I shall escort you to the main building where schedules, books, extra clothing, tours, and dorm arrangements will be handled shortly. Please watch your step." He stepped down and began walking, the whole group following him without further bidding. I was a bit surprised, because this group didn't seem like the type to respond well to instructions from such a mild looking man. But he did. Maybe it was the respect he seemed to inspire? Because I knew what was blooming in my chest had to be a respect for his authority.

Who was this competent leader?

In any case, the sorting of us and handing out of items went surprisingly well. I was ushered to a corner where a stout woman stood with three female students. Jeanne and two others joined us, brining the female student population up to a staggering seven. I was doomed.

The female dorm was built to accommodate twenty, so we were allowed a great deal of privacy despite the small confines. There was a total of sixteen rooms: ten bedrooms with two bed to a room, five washrooms with one shower and two sinks per room, and one laundry room crowded with five washing machines and five drying units on either of the lateral walls. Not glamorous, but not all that horrible. Jeanne, who I had made out to be a prima donna at that point, took it rather well. She even assigned me as her roommate, confident that someone like me would never deny her. Unfortunately, I preferred privacy so picked a room that I could have to myself.

Comfortable in my sphere of solitude, I became indolent and threw myself on the already-made bed. The pillow smelled vaguely of garlic.

I was joined by the head of the female dorm who asked after my needs. "It is not much, but I will do what I can for you. If you need lotion, lip balm, a new uniform, or anything else just ask. Headmaster Ichinose is rather kind to our female students."

"Ichinose? Was he the one that brought us students up?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"He seems like a very . . . Inspiring man. All of the students actually listened to him," I commented, making direct eye contact with her so I could judge her next move.

"Everyone responds well to him. Now, good day. Oh, and don't keep yourself in here too long. Dinner is in thirty minutes." She really liked him, didn't she?

Alone now, I decided to unpack and set up my things. Pen, paper, and books all sorted on the rickety desk at the foot of my new bed, I was left with nothing else to do. So I took a nap. My culpable "friend" Jeanne allowed me to sleep through dinner and the first all-school meeting, helping me mark myself as the careless one of the bunch.

However, notes on what was said were delivered to me at eleven in the evening. I imagined that I had a good idea of where the notes came from and whose loopy hand they were written in.


	2. Array

Chapter two, obviously. I am aware that North Academy should be North School. And that Johan's uniform totally is not the uniform worn by North Academy students and that is kinda sorta of touched on in this chapter. But not much.

**Disclaimer**: _I do not own _Yu-Gi-Oh! DM GX.

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I quickly learned two things about North Academy: this school was sexist and this place was quick to break boys. The aggression driving duels flared to dangerous levels, and a ban on duelling was instituted for three days in an attempt to cool the heads of the warring students. It worked until one of the students (who could it have been?) started playing with the ante rule and ended up getting two students expelled from the island because they no longer had a full deck of cards. Ichinose announced that the next person to cause trouble would be thrown into the freezing ocean by him personally. His threat kept us in line for two weeks. Yet no one was thrown into the ocean when offenses resumed.

One month into the school year, I decided that I would have learn to tolerate Jeanne's presence. Her hair was still like silk, and her hands had yet to succumb to the drying forces of wind and ice. My hands, once soft as a baby's skin, now had the chalked topography of badlands. I was jealous of her, I admit. In fact, I was jealous of all the other girls. Every single one of them managed the rough environment with a certain grace that I possessed in no measurable quality. Most of them were better duellists than I too. Especially Birgit, the girl who ran a deck similar mine but was more focused on maintaining life points. How she could be so successful which such a deck I didn't know, but I guessed it might have had something to do with her confidence and lucky draw.

Anyway, I found Jeanne's company to become more tolerable as the weeks passed. Our duel record ended up being consistent, with me usually being one point ahead. This was because she really didn't understand how to use her deck. Too many monsters and too few spell and trap removal cards made her deck unbalanced. I knew that her deck would be able to pulverize mine with a bit of tweaking.

Roles and routines for us females normalized, while the male population seemed to decline everyday. Showering was optional it seemed, and their clothing began to tear. One of the girls offered to repair garments, but she charged a standard fee of three Duel Monster cards. And the owner had to supply the materials for the repair or pay an extra fine of one card. In this way Eleanor amassed a small fortune in Duel Monster cards. Jeanne was disgruntled by the state of all of us, and this showed in her increased agitation in our duels; her beatsticks became more prominent and her reliance on Tornado Wall vanished.

Jeanne eventually became so confident in her deck's strength that her driving frustration was replaced by a consuming need to win. She began talking about challenging the King of North Academy to a duel for his position—"and a fine Queen I shall make."

I thought her crazy as she gathered her resources and set about revamping her deck. Her afternoons were no longer spent beside a heater while doing homework, and were instead used to scout the island for hidden cards. By the time she was satisfied with her deck Ichinose allowed the students to switch to black or brown uniforms. Several versions existed for the males, while the King, Yuri Edogawa, was allowed his own custom design. I preferred the original blue and white outfit styled after the main branch's uniform (it appeared Johan shared my sentiment about the harshness of the colors black and brown). Jeanne switched to brown and customized her uniform so well I figured that she would do well to consider fashion design as a second career choice.

Then the day came in which Jeanne initiated the ceremony required to take the position of King; forty-nine duels against the top-ranking students and then a head-to-head duel against the current reigning King whose dominance one was trying to usurp.

Wallowing in jealousy of her talent, I didn't really care how far she got. I sat alonne and sulking near a precipice, watching the ocean as it moaned in a secret language, perhaps for a lost child. Such was the distress of the great beast that I failed to hear the approaching footfalls. When I finally did hear the crunching of the snow I whipped my head around to see Johan smiling down at me. That wasn't . . . Right. He was one of the top-ranking duellists, so why wasn't he facing Jeanne?, I wondered.

"Your friend is a good duelist," Johan stated pleasantly as he sat down about a meter away from me. His eyes were closed and his lips wereaught in an ever-frozen smile.

"Jeanne? Yes, she is."

"But aren't you worried about her? Something could happen."

"It's her fault if something happens to her. She is the one who wanted the title."

At this Johan frowned. I wish I had a camera, because I knew later I would doubt that this memory of his upended smile was authentic. "But she is your friend. She might need help, so shouldn't you be there for her?"

"What're you trying to do? Tell me how to make my decisions? If you want to live my life for me go ahead and switch me; I'm more than willing to give up this existence."

"Awww, come on. I'm sorry if I offended you. It's just that you seemed a bit lost."

"Oh, so now you are a shining beacon of moral purity guiding the rest of us sinful souls to righteous land? What is that you know about me, Johan?" I snapped. Narrowing my eyes I continued "shouldn't you be more worried about yourself? I mean, come on! You're the best duellist on this island yet they rank you below fiftieth best."

"Well, I don't really think that's for me, you know?" His response was cheerful and mild despite me, making me simmer with both annoyance and shame. "It's just not my goal to be ranked like that. And I don't think I could stand that type of duel where you duel to crush someone who is trying to take your spot."

I nodded slowly. What had I been thinking? Not only was he unfit for a such a competition, he was more out of place on this island than Jeanne with her designer boots and collection of cosmetics. People were destroyed and built up here, but Johan would not be subdued.

"Johan . . . I . . . Why're you here?"

"So I can master my duel!" he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

But what was the exchange rate?, I wondered. Maybe . . .

"All right, then. You're officially marked as touched in the head, but that is okay. Sanity is always relative."

"Yeah, sort of like ski—"

Johan was interrupted by a grinning Ikaku striding towards us. That was the first time I noticed his eyebrows . . . Can you say bushels of pampas? At least they appeared to be purposely styled . . . Somewhat.

"Johan! I have a question for you!" he shouted, in contest with the ocean below. I willed the waves to break harder and faster against our rugged island.

"Go ahead, Ikaku. Come and sit down."

Jeez, all we needed now was Jeanne and we could form a quartet. Ikaku could be alto, Jeanne and Johan could cover soprano, and I could massacre tenor. We would be the first choir in all of the Duel Academia's branches. All of them . . . all of them but I looked like possible showmen. Jeanne had the countenance to be an actress, Ikaku could probably be a lively personality on television or in the Pro Leagues, and Johan—well, he was Johan and had a beautiful countenance appropriate for a lot of things. I, however, was me, that little girl who always sat in the corner and spurned makeup and other "feminine" things because it made her feel rebellious and important. I submitted to my parents like a good daughter, but when it came to these issues I would drown in indecision until an incident in a washroom or at school cooled me down. Usually said incident was not a fight, nor involved me directly; girls would do an atrocious job on their blush or their skirts would fail to protect their modesty.

"And that, Ikaku, is your problem. You need to trust your deck more. Just let the trust come naturally, like a good friend."

Apparently I had missed his question in my musings. Not that I had cared . . .

"Thank you, Johan! All right, maybe now I won't fail as much."

"Mmm! Good luck!"

Ikaku sat up, dusted off his black uniform, and began walking away. I don't know why, but something clicked inside me and _come on, he'll be an easy win_ became a relentless refrain in my mind. So, not really thinking, I lept up and strode towards him.

"Ikaku, hold up!"

"Hmm? Oh, you." He turned around took a few steps towards me, his face neutral. "Can I help you?"

"Heh, I wonder. I challenge you to a duel." And with that my Duel Disk awakened itself from stand-by mode, locking into place with a resounding _click._

Ikaku looked confused at first, but then he got it. Once a challenged was offered, it was the rule of the island that one was obligated to meet it. Smirking, he declared "I accept! Duel!"

"What're you doing?" Johan asked as he approached us. There was that frown again, but he looked more bemused than anything.

"What am I doing? I'm dueling Ikaku so he can put your lesson to the test!"

Johan was not satisfied with this, the bemusement still lingering. "Right, then. Well, do your best and don't get hurt." He stepped back and became a distant spectator.

It was time to prove myself. My record really needed this win . . .

. . . And really didn't need my loss.

Jeanne wasn't doing any better when I trudged back to the girls' dorm, though she wouldn't tell me how far she had gotten into the challenge. She looked beaten and worn, her hair dishevelled and a line of bruises coloring her arm. "I fell," she explained when she saw my eyes lingering on that spot.

And nothing else was said on the subject.

As such, a certain gloom permeated my life. The attendance for the classes not directly involving duelling dropped drastically and we were assigned a ream of math homework to finish before the holiday break, now less than three weeks away.

I was able to tell that Jeanne, while still confident, had had something beaten out of her. Her soul maybe, for her actions became much more mechanical; homework was completed with an acute proficiency and she easily toppled me in our duels.

It became much colder at night during those final weeks before the first vacation. The heaters worked all day, but they just weren't powerful enough to fend off the pervading chill. Extra blankets were added to the beds and I acquired longjohns to wear underneath my uniform. At this point I was more concerned with living than how stupid I looked in the insulating underwear. I could have gotten a better color, of course, but if I caught pneumonia I wouldn't have to worry about how washed-out powder blue made my already-translucent skin look. Jeanne soon followed down the path to warmth, but she opted for another approach involving layering of jackets and wearing pants in addition to her stockings. Impossibly, she retained her shape and composure in such clothing. I admit that I was a surprised, if not a great deal jealous. To me it seemed that everything just _worked_ for her because she was one of the lucky ones. Duelling skill, style, poise, confidence—she had it all in abundance and then some.

The last week before break saw a great number of events. Something shifted on our hiemal island, and everyone was ill-at-ease, including Johan who couldn't even sleep in class due to his jittery nerves. Birgit, the Norse nerd, put aside her contacts and adorned her face with thick glasses, hiding a good deal of her face and somehow managing to destroy the soft fullness of her cheeks. Jeanne was the worst, however. I had begun to suspect that she was a masochist, but these suspicions were obliterated when her sobs filled the cold void that ruled our dorm at night. When I knew she was broken something within me shattered. If she was defeated, how come someone like me was still standing?

I was sitting in my spot on that particular cliff observing the steely ocean when Johan found me on Wednesday that week. He sat down about two meters away and then sighed. Ignoring him, I closed my eyes and allowed the din of the ocean to invade my mind. Johan remained quiet and patient until finally I got annoyed and had to acknowledge his presence.

The first thing I noticed was that he looked very, very tired.

Something wasn't right.

"Johan . . . ? What in the world happened to you?"

"People need my help a lot. They ask me to meet them and sometimes they don't show up on time, so I have to wait a bit."

Or at all, I guessed. He was such a fool . . . My heart clenched and sympathy welled. Too sweet! Too trusting! I wanted to smack him and tell him to wake up or leave the island. For his own safety, of course, because I worried that he might one day be really hurt.

I then noticed the black and blue blob on his hand and almost cried out. Several of his finger joints were also bruised.

Johan . . . What could've happened to you? I knew that he would never tell me, but I still had to ask. I wasn't sure where the boundaries were—could he even draw boundaries?—so I gave myself free rein to point to his bruises and stare into his eyes. No profound secrets were exchanged between us but I knew I had his attention.

"Johan, what happened to you there?"

"There was an accident with a few people yesterday."

Could he have possibly been more vague?

"Johan, please tell me."

"Too much dueling." He now moved to hide his wounds, but his sleeves would not reach past his knuckles no matter how many adjustments he made. I felt betrayed by this display. Trying to will myself to indifference, I fought against my flaring frustration. But I was only a girl and by no means an adult (let alone a god).

"Johan, tell me! I'm concerned, dammit, so at least acknowledge that!" I snarled, my brow twitching as I stood up quickly. And to flaunt my abundant grace I ended up slipping and falling flat on my back.

I "cooled down" immediately, my belligerence shot.

_Good maidens who lie down on their backs_, echoed in my mind. It was a distant memory, something I read years ago. What had it been, Shakespeare? "Hamlet"? "Romeo and Juliet", perhaps . . .

Flushed now, I rolled over onto my stomach and pushed up using my hands. Johan watched me but didn't laugh. His mouth was formed into a straight line and his eyebrows were slightly slanted. I stood up, brushed the dirty snow and ice off the front of my clothing. Our eyes kept contact the entire time.

Then, quietly and nearly supplicating, "Johan, please tell me what has happened to you."

He considered me.

His mouth opened. Then he hesitated.

Waiting, deliberating, debating . . .

A word tumbled out and neither of us heard it.

"There was an accident. I fell down and used my hands to stop my head from hitting ice," Johan said simply without averting his gaze.

Was he really that averse to me? Did I repulse him so, him the boy who was as generous and gentle as a spring zephyr?

"Thanks for the notes. They really helped me."

Johan nodded. "Mmm. You're welcome." The smile was back in all its brilliant glory.

The art of smiling had to be his forte if it wasn't Duel Monsters. I didn't doubt his candor, but I did doubt his value of self.


	3. Domicile

This is a really lame chapter. And it is too short. Blah. There is going to be something in this chapter that might bug people, so sorry about that. If you don't catch it, you'll get it in the next one.

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own _Yu-Gi-Oh! DM GX.

* * *

A great deal had changed when we returned to from break; many had used Christmas as an opportunity to improve their decks through direct gifts and funds given as presents, Jeanne had been reborn as her previous confident and feminine self as she had been at the beginning of the year, Johan smiled again and had recovered from his exhaustion, Ichinose had allowed bristle to invade his chin, and the student body was more aggressive than ever.

Over the break I had changed a bit myself, too. I had discovered that Chelsea rather than New York would be my future place of residence no matter what. The beauty of that borough was in the wealth and constancy of the place. For years artists, writers, musicians, and countless other artisans have called the place home. Charles Dickens had even resided there once.

But I had been thrilled the most when I learnt that Gwyneth Paltrow lived there. Sure I loved European cinema, but there was something magical about Hollywood and its thirty-minute nature. As for Gwyneth, I had loved her work in both _Hook _and _Shakespear in Love_.

So with my head having been in the clouds in many regards, I was shocked when I fell back down to earth and landed on the cold and desolate reality of North Academy. Such a fall would've probably stun even Lucifer himself.

Soon enough, I was a cynical mess. Low class attendance made me resentful of homework and tests while plunging temperatures made me grudgingly bury myself in a futile effort to stay warm. Heck, Liverpool had felt like Hawaii to me when I had been at home for break. My skin was quick to dry and crack, eager to create a juxtaposition of soft (uniform) and rough (skin).

Rhe change was only just beginning as I was soon to learn. Ichionse disappeared for a day, three days, and then a week.

It was on an unbelievably cold night in which the gibbous moon burned like a distant flame in the deep black of night which lasted for twenty-three hour stretches. Watching the luminary through my window, I imagined grasping it and holding its pale warmth in my palms. Jeanne walked into my fantasy and plopped herself down on the bed opposite of mine. She wore her entire uniform under her robe and her pale skin glowed slightly in the silver light bequeathed to us by Luna.

"Have you heard?" she started without a greeting, as she always did. Very efficient—always about speed.

"Heard what? Perhaps you could be a bit more vague?"

"Sarcasm not appreciated. In any case, someone told me they spotted a foreigner hanging off of a cliff while he was looking for Duel Monster cards."

"Foreigner? What the heck, Jeanne? We're all foreigners here save Birgit."

"No, listen! He's _Japanese._"

"And? We have Latvians and Ukrainians. What's one more nationality in this hodgepodge?"

"He is collecting cards to get into the school."

"So?"

She was clearly frustrated with my lack of enthusiasm at her gossip. So she decided to drop one last bit in a desperate attempt to provoke my attention. "He was wearing the uniform of Duel Academia. Obelisk Blue uniform."

"_What?_" I admit that I was snared by these insignificant details. Sitting straight up, I gazed directly at her. "Are you sure?"

"It's just what I heard."

"The same person who told you about the staph infection?"

"That source was ditched long ago."

Jeanne grinned, satisfied that she had me now. "Anyway, I think that this guy will get in. And he's pretty good looking compared to everyone else on this island from what I've heard."

"And your point?" Her grin morphed into a coy smirk. Twirling a tendril of her hair, she looked at the moon, then at me, and then back at the dazzling rock hovering in and illuminating the firmament.

"Nothing really. I just wanted to see how you would react. Though just exactly as I had imagined; you could care less. Most girls would have asked me to elaborate on his looks."

Her not-so-subtle hint had me simmering. Offended, I coasted around her and decided to toss out my own hint.

"Oh, yes, but that would be no fun, would it? If I was a normal girl I would be back at home attending school for 'normal' girls rather than braving my way through this place."

Though I wasn't that good at being subtle. Fail.

"I am pleased, actually. Normalcy has kept the general knowledge of great names like Leonardo da' Vinci from being one hundred percent accurate. Though that really isn't important right now." She stood up and approached me. In my confusion I noted that there was a thin bruise wrapped around her slender neck, but didn't have time to register that she tapped me lightly on my nose and ran a hand quickly through my hair. "Stay as bright as the moon, my friend."

I was too tired to care what she thought about me.

The Japanese boy made it into our school three days later. His name was—forgive my insolence—Jun Manjyoume and he meant business; that much he had made clear on that first day. He took the "initiation" challenge and ended up usurping Yuri's throne as King of North Academy.

It was at this time that I was able to talk with Johan for more than four minutes for the first time since break. Jeanne was boiling with anger at the invading entity named Jun so I was very much alone on my cliff when he found me and asked if I would mind if he joined me. Smiling slightly, I pointed to my side. He sat about two metres away.

"So, your friend not taking the news very well?" Johan asked for the sake of starting a conversation. I nodded.

Everyone knew that Jeanne was upset, even if they didn't care.

"You should hear her in the dorm. Such foul language pours from her mouth that I fear she may make a habit of it. If she already hasn't."

Johan grinned and touched a finger to his chin. He tilted his head and closed his eyes. "Aw, don't say that. It's probably just a phase. I'm sure that she'll be over it very soon."

"And who are you to make such an observation?"

His eyes fluttered open, allowing his green eyes to run over my body once to measure my body language. "Well, I think that I know her pretty well," Johan began candidly, "after being in class with her for five months."

"But you're always snoozing in class. Just consult your marks," I pointed out indignantly.

"Not as much as you give me credit for. I have a hard time sleeping in Duel Tech and math."

"Huh. Why math?"

"Smith's voice is really deep," Johan admitted.

I made a face.

"Anyway, Johan, I think that you should at least try and apply yourself. That should have been you defending your position from that Jun. I mean it; you're the best duelist on this island and I don't care who tries to contradict me."

"Ah, thanks. But you know, there are things more important than rankings."

"Oh really?"

I wondered what in the world he could mean. Really, I thought, is he feeling all right? Rankings are everything in this game. After all, if he wasn't acknowledged as the best how could he move on to the Pro Leagues? Someone was off, and I was convinced that it was him.

"Of course! Having fun is paramount!" His smile was so prominent that I flinched.

A silence settled over me as I tried to wrap my mind around what he said. _Fun_ . . . ? In the name of all that is logical . . .

"Johan, how are you ever going to make it as a professional duelist?"

"I'll enjoy what I am doing! The love for the duel will carry those who possess it. You're a bit too focused on the wrong things, you know? I don't even know your name."

It hit me then. He was right. My name . . . Heh, such an inconsequential thing.

"Don't you want that Armed Dragon, Johan? It should be yours, you know"

"Ah, no, not really. No offense to the card, but it just isn't meant for me."

I waited for what would come next.

Dot. Dot. Dot.

Then I changed my mind and didn't want admit that I was wrong because I honestly didn't think that I was wrong. Who was this stranger to come and correct me? But he hadn't meant to correct me; I had just been in the wrong. And, ah, how easy circular reasoning is!

Even Jeanne . . . even she didn't know my name since roll had never been called in any of our classes before.

I feared that I might end up being in thrall to him . . .

"My name is Elisabeth."

Some other things were said that day, yet I can't recall more than his smile and interest in my problems.

Jeanne found me on as I was making my way back to the dorm and, deciding that I had to accompany her, pulled me by the crook of my arm towards the stairs and stalls that served as the school's quad. Standing proudly above us, Ichinose awarded the school's prized Armed Dragon over to Jun, the boy holding the received cards high above his head. The crowd cheered while Jeanne jeered. I wanted desperately to escape, but she still had the crook of my arm secured tightly in hers. It was the first time she had touched me longer than three seconds.

When Jun finally departed with Ichinose and his fledging posse to represent North Academy in a duel against Duel Academia, a lot changed. With half the school elsewhere, all classes were canceled and we remaining students were given an arse-load of homework to keep our education from completely floundering. Jeanne disappeared frequently to search for stray cards to add to her growing collection. Details of the Seven Wonders had captivated her mind and stolen her away from me. Birgit tried to comfort me, but I found her attention for me to be nothing but an annoyance.

So I opted to find Johan. Combing the island, I finally came across him at my spot on the cliff, bent over his work and his tongue stuck out in concentration. He gladly accepted the company so the two of us began spending five hours a day sitting silently, only socializing to offer help when the other was stymied or when the day's quota had been meet. By and by, our mountains of homework became mere stacks and I grew as both a person and a duelist from his advice and self-reflection—I even learned from Johan that Raging Flame Sprite, one of the main cards in my deck, watched over me at times. I found the idea to be a bit strange but definitely cute. Duel Spirits is something only Johan would come up with.

On some days Ikaku joined us to chat and scribble away on his worksheets. I found his presence to actually be quite pleasant. He was a nice boy with a genuine interest in Duel Monsters and only wished that he wasn't such a failure.

Johan encouraged him every chance he could get, however, reminding Ikaku of his victory over me and assuring him that love for the game was better than victory.

Over time I began to notice a paradigm and I . . . I didn't want to acknowledge it so I pushed it out of my head. Johan was friendly to everyone . . . Yet, I . . . Could it be that he liked Ikaku more than me? I wondered. I reasoned that it just had to be my raging and petty jealousy.

Just when my life at North Academy had reached the closest to an equilibrium in all my time there, the other half of the school returned shouting "Manjyoume Thunder!" and declaring that Yuki Edogawa was King again—and like that the race for his title was back on. Jeanne returned soon and classes resumed.

The head of the female dorm was inflamed by the news brought back by Eleanor and the sulking of Ichinose. "A kiss from Tome? Hah! I shall give him more than a kiss! I shall gladly twist his—" And I listened no longer because I didn't need that image to be burnt into my memories and haunting me for the rest of my life.

As such, three more months passed and then it was time to go home.

I sobbed when we departed the island, and I had no idea why I was crying over leaving that damned island for just two months. It's not like I wasn't going to be coming back.


	4. Hypothetical

**Disclaimer**: _I own nothing here. _

* * *

I had been glad to return to North Academy, thinking that this next year would be as good as my last, which had been by no stretch of the imagination either great or terrible. On the submarine ride to the island I learned that the first years did not fear the upperclassmen for the most part, so my plans to bully them were shot. Jeanne, who had clung to me since our reunion, glared at any first year who was foolish enough to look at her. "They are so disrespectful, Elisabeth. We'll have to teach them all a lesson."

"Eh, Jeanne . . ." I trailed off, my gaze travelling among the faces and looking for something, anything to hold my attention. "I'm not so sure about that. I don't really care what the first years think."

"Oh, don't be like that. I know you—you wanted to hold your seniority over their little heads."

I gaped at her. _How_ did she do that?

"Heh heh, I got you, Elisabeth." She winked.

My stomach writhed.

For most of my life I have preferred to consider myself a simple person with simple needs. Sure I wanted to live in Chelsea and I dreamed of a glamorous career I knew I was never going to have, but I was content with my life. But I was not pleased, however, when I found that the female population had nearly tripled, forcing me to double up with Jeanne. Some girls had to go four to a room, but our second-year status saved us from that nightmare. On the first night of sharing a room we talked over the day's assembly and how sorry she was for letting me sleep through last year's. I forgave her, of course, because from that decision a few pleasant events had sprung forth. Then she began talking about her childhood, only stopping at one in the morning when sleep had finally been able to claim her. I had learned more about Paris and her family than I ever needed to know.

The next day I found it impossible to drag myself out of bed after only five hours of sleep, so Jeanne did the work for me. Gripping my arm, she tugged me out of bed and onto to my feet, shocking the tiredness out of me with surprise at her strength.

"Not, bad, eh?" She smiled and then moved to collect her toiletries.

"No . . . You're quite powerful despite your frame."

"There are many things that you may not be able to know about me just by looking at me, Elisabeth."

Of course—she hid more than she showed.

I was exhausted after the day's classes, too tired to even visit my spot near the cliff. Johan would understand, though, because he had other boys meeting with him there. Jeanne didn't return until later that evening, so I ended up brooding myself in a gloomy state as I lay down. Wind assaulted the building . . .

When I woke up it was still sunny outside. How bizarre it was to have so much sunlight in one day! My body's internal clock had shut down so I couldn't tell if it was still evening or if I had slept through the night and it was now dawn. The lack of Jeanne, however, told me it was still evening. I figured that with no one to talk to and no homework to complete I may as well pay my spot a visit. Johan and his group had probably finished their business, anyway.

The walk there was longer than I had remembered. Several new snow banks had formed, making it a much more arduous venture. I tripped four times and had wet knees and a sour attitude by the time I got there.

My complaints vanished when I got there, however—the two upperclassmen smirked at me when they spotted me. One of them I recognized as the towering lackey of Yuri's who seemed to be a favorite for inheriting the title of King of North Academy. The other one was a brown-haired beatstick god who wielded Skill Drain as easily as a marksman handles a bow.

They began to approach me.

My heart refused to beat as adrenaline flooded my bloodstream. Shit.

"She hangs out with him, doesn't she?" asked the brown-haired boy. His name . . . James, was it?

The taller one nodded. "Yes, she does. With both of them, actually." Turning to address me, he began "did you know that your friend Johan was suppose to met us here for a duel? He was suppose to bring Ikaku too, but neither of them have shown their faces. Do you know why?"

I shook my slightly, my entire body quivering. Yuri's lackey approached me and settled his hands on my shoulder. They were large; rough through the thick fabric of my uniform jacket.

He leaned forward and I could smell his horrible breathe. Oh, such a noisome stench! Was it his smell? Or had I . . . "They're both little scared fags," he breathed into my ear. I was stunned for a moment, not able to believe what he was saying to me. Then I exploded and launched myself onto him.

I was able to get in two punches to his naval and one bite on his arm before he gained a definite grip on my waist. I didn't scream, but I flailed and kicked and tugged at his arms in an attempt to free myself. He backed up against a rock and transferred control of me to one arm. His free hand wrenched open my collar and violently felt around my neck.There was nothing to find. My hands now shot to my neck in an attempt to drag his prying hand away.

James looked at us and grinned stupidly. There was a feral gleam in his eyes that conceived a deep fear in me. He stepped forward, then hesitated.

Strangely enough, I was rather aloof from the matter save for my reflexive struggle. Sure I was afraid of them, but I wasn't afraid of what they could and probably would do to me. If they were that desperate, all they had to do was ask.

Yuri's lackey withdrew his hand and slapped the back of my head. "Nothing? No necklaces I can steal? No lockets? The last girl was loaded! Why is it that females are so damned inconsistent?"

"Tell me about it," James said as he began walking towards us again. When he was close enough he reached out a tentative hand and, after leaving it suspended and shaking it in the air for ten seconds, rested it on my exposed collar bones. I watched, detached, as he traced the contours of my bones. I stifled a gasp as he suddenly travelled lower and his face twisted into something like a grimace.

And when I thought he would continue until he reached past my naval and stuffed his entire arm in my shirt, I heard a voice in the distance. I was too tired to look up, however.

"Shit. Come here," Yuri's lackey ordered as he pulled himself and I over to the edge of the cliff. I was vaguely aware of him letting go of my waist and the two large hands on my back urging me to step off the cliff. I obeyed the prompting and plummeted until I crashed into a small ledge. I was sure that my back was hurting, but at that time I couldn't register anything but the mixture of disappointment and relief consuming me.

Several hundred years later Jeanne's and Johan's faces peeked out over the edge of the cliff. They appeared to be floating.

"Elisabeth!" Jeanne cried out. Her face was red and her hair dishevelled. She said something to Johan and pointed to ocean less than seven meters below me.

I closed my eyes, hoping just for a moment of sleep. I was screaming at myself, knowing better—that I might have a concussion—but it was only suppose to be for a little while . . .

Jeanne was all over me the moment I woke up. Touching my forehead despite my shying away from her touch, she leaned over and finished dressing my shoulder. I tried to shift to see so that I might ascertain the damage, but she pinned my good shoulder down and glared at me. "Elisabeth, calm down please." I tried to move my fingers and toes, and I was surprised to find that each phalange responded.

"What have I broken?"

"My heart," Jeanne answered back. She raised a hand to her chest to accentuate her melodrama.

"I'm being serious, Jeanne."

"As am I. As for you, miraculously none of your bones were broken but a rock was lodged in your shoulder. And you have been out for two days."

Then I remembered why I had fallen. Sensing my shift, Jeanne frowned and creased her brow.

"Elisabeth, what happened is not your fault. No matter what they said . . ."

"Have you ever had something stolen from you on this island? A necklace?"

"I—"

"Just answer the question, Jeanne."

"Yes, the same two boys. They . . ."

"Last year before break. They beat you and took their prize, didn't they? Jeanne, what did they do to you?"

At this point I was inflamed. I cared not for my pain and sat up, gazing intently and purposefully at her.

"Oh, nothing like that. They just roughed me up a bit and stole a very precious family heirloom. Other than that . . . They didn't molest me."

And I felt dirty twice over. Violated and a horrible friend. Such a thing I had missed . . .

News of what happened stayed relatively secret and for that I have to thank Jeanne, Johan, and Ichinose. I never did see the two boys again, and I'm not sure what I would've done if I had. I believe I handled the experience well, for other than a developing fear for males looking at me I was doing well. Though, I didn't seem to mind Johan's and Ikaku's presence. We found a spot in the quad to call our own and met there every day to complete homework, socialize, and get in duel practice. Until the endless days began shifting into interminable night, we had a routine. Then we moved to the library which was abandoned on most days.

I hadn't meant to avoid Jeanne, but I was shaken by having shared an experience with her and her previous silence about her encounter with the two boys. By an by, this unease morphed into a certain loathing. Why was she too good to not think that I would care about her problems? Or perhaps she was above my caring. Johan tried to council me on these feelings when he discovered them, and I did my best to take his advice to heart. But soon enough I was mad at him for thinking he knew better than me, so I quit showing up at the library and instead offered to help Mr. Smith with grading papers and preparing the next day's lesson.

Over the next few weeks the daylight waned to a mere two hours per day while my math grade rose from an eighty to a ninety-one.

Of course, I couldn't avoid Jeanne who, being my roommate, carried on pointless conversation with me every night while we prepared for bed. I had never before been partial to shallow banter, but we sure did banter a lot during those months.

When the last week before holiday break finally arrived I was euphoric. Then Friday arrived and I was ready to leave even if we still had a full day of school ahead of us. I considered skipping classes, but I knew better than that.

I was halfway through the day when I realized that Ikaku was missing. I looked over to Johan for an answer but he was sleeping. Jeanne tried to get my attention, but I shrugged and looked up towards the teacher who was explaining the appropriate context for the counter trap Triage. No options for losers, apparently.

Johan seemed glad enough to see me when I approached him in the hallway during our five minute break. He smiled and greeted me with a nod of his head. But he had no idea where Ikaku had gone. "He failed his test yesterday, though. He told me about it and seemed a bit depressed. I tried to cheer him up, but he wouldn't listen," Johan explained with a frown adorning his face.

"Ah . . . His grades aren't that good, are they?"

"Not good . . . Not the best 's'all. He's still having problems trusting his deck and I don't know why." There was such a raw concern in his eyes that I felt a pang in my breast—I knew it had to be jealousy. But why? I had ditched them because I had been angry at Johan for reasons I couldn't remember, and I had shunned them. Why . . . Why did I care?

"Dammit, where the hell did he go? Who does he think he is, not attending class and making us worry?"

Making _Johan _worry?

"Elisabeth, calm down. I'm sure he's fine."

"No, I won't calm down!" I snapped at Johan, grinding my teeth and puffing my cheeks as I glared at him. He seemed unaffected, but recoiled slightly. "That bastard thinks that he can behave like this after all that you have done for him?" I was shouting now, drawing attention to us. Several people stared while others snickered. I heard a muttered "looks like that bitch is whipping his ass."

I wheeled around and, with as much strength as I could muster, rammed my fist into the jaw of the nearest boy—it just had to have been that _obnoxious_ freshman.

"Fuck!" he cried as a hand flew to cradle his jaw. The freshman stumbled away from me and those who had witnessed the event stood staring.

"Who else has something to say? Go on! Let's discuss your stupid little opinions!" I shouted as I looked at each one of them. Birgit met my glare however, and adjusted her skirt nervously.

Two freshman boys blindsided me, one of them pinioning my arms and the other trying to take a shot at my face. I wrenched my body and dipped violently to the left, blocking the punch with my bad shoulder. Only a small cry before I twisted and wheeled in an attempt to break the circular grasp on my arms.

Johan, who had stood spectator up until this point, stepped in and asked us quietly to stop. The voice of reasons was lost in our thrashings, however.

Finally, I was able to break away from the freshman. He was stunned for a moment, but quickly renewed his assault. I was ready this time ,so I easily landed an impromptu punch on his jaw.

I was tired now, panting, but the adrenaline in my body kept me standing and my fervor burning. When I was met with nothing but dumb stares, from boy the assaulters and the bystanders, I knew that there was nothing else for me here. But I knew where I would get my next source of aggravation—and that is what my rage became to me: a high.

The punctures I made in last night's snowfall were deep. Melancholic silver light illuminated the whitescape and it all sparkled dimly, even the ice-ground. I marched among this phantasmagoric landscape and eventually it affected me to the point where my aggression was utterly pacified. I stopped walking all together. Standing among celestial snow banks, I regretted how stupid I had been. Guilt became my new drug as I threw myself to the ground and cursed my outburst.

A form approached me, but I couldn't make it out despite the glowing snow and the bright ribbons of the Aurora pulsing in the sky. I feared being seen in this state so I sat up and pretended to nurse knee as though I had fallen. Then the figure (I had hoped that it was Johan) got close enough and I saw that it was Ikaku (but my fluttering heart landed on a perch and sulked). He looked eerily pale in the moonlight, the color in his face completely washed out and his usually bright eyes now a dead ink-black.

"What're you doing here?" I asked. My words were laced with a lingering spite.

He didn't answer.

Instead he smirked. He knew something that I didn't.

"It's good to see you again, Elisabeth. Do you need any help?" Ikaku offered as he bent down and reached out a hand for me to take. I pushed it away from me and stood up on my own.

He seemed to not care.

"I'm fine. I was just tying my shoes."

We both knew that the girls' boots had no laces.

"Ah. Double or triple knot?"

"Single."

"All right. See you later," he said with a wave of his hand.

"No you don't! Get your arse to class right now! Johan is worried about you so get a move on back to class where you ought to be!"

Ikaku considered me, a wide smile developing—nearly festering—on his face.

"Johan . . . ? Would you tell him that I'll see him later? I have something to finish right now."

"Listen you little leech, I'm not your messenger! You hold your business for later and go and tell him yourself that you're ditching him!"

"Ditching him? Aren't you being a bit harsh, Elisabeth? Why do you even care?"

"I . . . I don't want to see him worried."

True enough. Though there was more: _I don't want to see him fret over someone like you because, quite frankly, you don't deserve it._

Now, it's not a question of whether I liked Johan or not. Nor did I care about his relationships, because I was in no way qualified to mediate those kinds of things. I did know, however, that the two were not involved like that for sure. Not only was it a disgusting image, but Jeanne had once told me of a certain incident involving Ikaku and Eleanor and payment for the repatching of his four pairs pants and an equivalent payment.

I realized then, with a subsequent degree of horror, that I being protective of Johan. Maybe not the person, but the ideas that he severed as a walking crystallization of.

"Heh, you're hilarious you know? But I like you. I think we'd get along quite well if formed our group again. The two of us, losers together."

I had had it; shot up and rushed for him. But he caught my fist in his palm and smiled. "And fiery. A twin flame that this island has not been able to douse."

"Just go back and tell him . . . Please."

"And I asked you to go and tell him for me. Fair enough, right? I get saved the detour and you can see Johan's mind eased."

I grunted. It was by no means fair, but I knew there was no point in arguing with someone whom I felt was so selfish.

Ikaku turned on his turned on his toes and left me sitting in the snow.

A cloud snuck in front of Luna, sealing away her benevolent gift and plunging the island in momentary darkness. When I found my way back to class I was awarded a tardy notice and a sharp "return to your seat and quit disrupting my class, Williams." Johan smiled limply when I delivered Ikaku's message. No one said anything about my fight, but several people gave me knowing glances.

I went home and forgot about my troubles during the three week break. My parents worried about the scar on my shoulder (they had never been informed of my incident) so I offered the explanation of slipping. My mom looked convinced but my dad quirked a brow and eyed me. Most of the time on break was spent at home because it seemed I had lost my ability to function in normal society. My old friends did their best to draw up lame excuses as to why they couldn't meet me for a day in town or at the cinema. I returned to North Academy and knew that I was home, no matter how dysfunctional it was.

Jeanne had dyed her hair over the break to match mine, so that when we walked from the school to our dorm we would have been two golden dots against the whitescape if there had been any sunlight. I divided all my time between helping Mr. Smith, homework, and Jeanne. As such, the weeks flew by and the light began to seep back into the black days. When a healthy balance had been reached between lightness and darkness, I couldn't help but feel that my soul was cleansed. Theatric I know, but still true.

Principle Ichinose singled me out one afternoon. The sun was shining warmly at it's zenith despite it being three in the evening. It was March and had just become warm enough to pack away the ugly longjohns.

"Elisabeth, may I talk to you for a moment?" he asked pleasantly as he stopped me in the hallway. Jeanne stared at him and made a face. She had never been fond of being interrupted.

"Ah, of course."

"Alone."

"Oh . . . ? Jeanne . . ."

"I'll be waiting at the end of the hall," she stated coolly before walking off. The heels of her boots clicked definitively

Ichinose had aged in the past year, I noticed. Crow's feet had begun to form at the corners of his eyes. His stubble was back and adding ten years to his physical age. He smiled tiredly at me and began "Elisabeth, do you want to go to the Pro Leagues?"

"Yes, I do. I really do. But I don't possess the talent."

"Elisabeth, you are one of the students I am considering placing in a very important tournament. Not to participate, but to go along and see how the process works."

"Oh? And what is this tournament?"

"The European Conglomerate."

My bottom lip quivered. The single most important tournament hosted in Europe. Many, many names would be there. The kind of exposure one could get there would easily find a job for even the most untalented of duelists—someone like me.

"I . . . Who would I be going with . . . ?"

"I cannot tell you that."

I searched his eyes, pleading.

"Will . . . Will Johan Andersen be going?"

"Elisabeth, I can't tell you who will also be going."

His eyes told me yes, however.

"Right, I understand. And when will I know for sure if I'm going?"

"In May."

"Because I don't want to go."

" . . . What?"

. . . was I doing? Throwing away such a ripe chance? I was sure that he thought I was going insane, that this island had gotten to me. But I smiled at him and shook my head.

"No thank you, sir. I've too much to take care of here."

"Very well, then. Just let me know if you change your mind."

"Mmm. I will!"

He left and Jeanne came to my side. She asked me what that been about; I told her that he had been concerned about how my shoulder was doing. Whether she believed me or not I can't say.

May came and we second years were given a test to help point us in the right vocational direction. Jeanne was told to head right for the Pro Leagues after graduation while I was told that I should consider teaching at one of Duel Academia's schools. At first the idea pissed me off, but by and by the irritation wore off and I considered the idea wholly. Maybe I _would _become a teacher of card technique and detail. I might not duel well, but name any card and I could give you the effect word for word along with all potential contexts. And like that I was able to find myself slipping into a content lull for nine days.

Then the announcement came, naming all the people who were to participate in the European Conglomerate and Johan was one of the fifteen named. They left for London two weeks later. Ikaku, who had been upset by the news, disappeared from the island.

One of the Seven Wonders was reported missing.

I knew where that bastard had run off to. Be wary Duel Academia and don't fear the reaper.

Feigning sickness, I skipped classes and hid away with Ms. Lindsey's (the head of the female dorm, that is) portable television to watch Johan's duels. Over the course of the week professional strategy and gilt celebrities danced across the small screen. The finals arrived and Johan won an easy but grand victory. Pegasus, the infamous creator of Duel Monsters, personally handed over a one-of-a-kind deck and named Johan fifth best duelist in the world.

He was finally getting what he deserved.

(It's but a small detail, but I swear he was _smiling_ at his new deck.)

As thus, Johan returned to the island as the master of the Gem Beasts. I was happy for him and his new found popularity, but I was jealous again. Every single one of the students knew who he was now, so I wasn't able to talk to him face to face until he found me back at that spot by the cliff on the second to last day of the term.

Johan was very tired. His smile was generous but limp. I gestured to the general direction of left and he sat down by my side, our shoulders and sides and hips touching. It was the closest I had ever been to him. I noticed that he smelt like plums and clementines.

"It's good to see you, stranger," I opened.

"Yeah, good to see you too. It's peaceful here."

The ocean was a distant tenor.

"That was a great duel you had. You really are the best on this island."

"Yeah. Oh, do you want to see my new deck?" There was a contagious light in his excitement that infected me and gave me the smiling-disease.

"I would like that."

So we leaved through his cards and I became acquainted with his new family. Bonjour Cobalt Eagle, Ruby Carbuncle, Amethyst Cat, Amber Mammoth, Sapphire Pegasus, Topaz Tiger, and Emerald Turtle. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm an . . . acquaintance of Johan's. I pray that you may protect him where I can't.

Johan and I talked for hours about his new deck and I even helped him formulate strategies. The strange and unique effects of the Gem Beasts had my head spinning, but I was content. Maybe that teaching job wasn't was such a bad idea, I thought. Time passed and somewhere in the world stars arced across the sky. But here in our frozen bubble Sol hung proudly and unmovable in the sky.

"You," Johan began after our thinking had worn us down, "remind me of a drop of milk spilt when one is pouring a glass. You may rush down the side but soon you stop because you just can't extend yourself any further."

I remember his words well because they were that profound and resounding. Me as a droplet of liquid . . . Liquid, a stage lost during sublimation.

"Thank you, Johan. You're right and I . . . I want to change that."

"Mmm. Just do it then."

"But it's hard for someone like me. You saw my fight. When I punched those freshmen . . ."

It had been a good number of hours when I finally reached my limit. I faltered and nearly fell into the clutches of sleep. But I caught myself and stood up. My arm waving was an attempt to shake the invading tiredness out of me.

Johan stood up and smiled. I smiled back. His eyes were green, compassionate, and bright. Very, very bright.

"You know, I can't wait for next year," I said softly, but hopefully. "We'll have to spend more time like this."

"Elisabeth, next year I'm going to be a representative of North Academy."

I may have been piggish, uncouth, stupid, dull, fat, and ugly but I _wasn't_ dense, even when I was exhausted.

I nodded. "Right. When you come back."

"Yeah, definitely!"

Jeanne was packed by the time I arrived back at the dorm. Johan had accompanied me there, so she was able to bid him good night and 'Thank you for returning Elisabeth safely'. Her suggestive tone was lost on the tired boy. She helped me find my bed and pajamas. Some things were said by her and I nodded.

"Yes, the constant sunlight threw me off too."

Never ending sun . . . The blazing Sol. Johan . . . My mind swelled with thoughts of him and the pleasant afternoon. He had a new family, didn't he? But his old family . . . Of them I knew nothing and I wouldn't be able to ask him about them until next year.

Jeanne helped me sit down and placed my change of clothing on the bed next to me. Gently, she unstrapped my collar and removed my jacket from my shoulders. She smiled at me, her hands lingering over my arms.

"Elisabeth, is your shoulder still hurting you?"

I moved my head in a way that might have been a nod. Dysphoria bubbled in my mind and began to seep into my circulation. Soon even my fingers wanted to twitch, to move, to touch.

"Elisabeth . . . My Elisabeth. I am glad you are all right," she whispered. Leaning in, Jeanne wrapped her arms around me, linking them in the space between my shoulder blades.

"There are some things I don't know just by looking at you," I quoted her dumbly. Until I found their context they had no meaning. So now they meant a world to me. "Jeanne, I like him. I . . . I like Johan."

She said nothing.

"Ah . . . What am I to do?" I supplicated.

Jeanne pulled up and searched my face. Reverently, she touched a hand to my cheek. My skin blazed beneath her touch.

"My Elisabeth . . . What to do? They're overrated. Real women don't need boys."

I had heard once that it takes two wings to fly. Getting an aeroplane off the ground is a concert effort between the pilot and ground control. Both parties put forth an equal effort . . . It's mutual.

I said nothing.

Of what happened, I can't say, for I'm not sure if anything did happen that night. All I remember is falling into a black sleep.


End file.
